Salmagundi (Huddesford, 1791)/Whitsuntide

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WHITSUNTIDE.

WRITTEN AT WINCHESTER COLLEGE ON THE IMMEDIATE
APPROACH OF THE HOLIDAYS.

Hence, Thou Fur-clad Winter, flу;Sire of shivering poverty!Who, as thou creep'st with chilblains lameTo the crowded charcoal flame,With chattering teeth and ague cold,Scarce thy shaking sides canst holdWhilst Thou draw'st the deep cough out:God of Foot-ball's noisy rout,Tumult loud and boist'rous play,The dangerous slide, the snow-ball fray.
But come, Thou genial Son of Spring,Whitsuntide, and with thee bring ​Cricket, nimble boy and light,In slippers red and drawers white,Who o'er the nicely-measur'd landRanges around his comely band,Alert to intercept each blow,Each motion of the wary Foe.
Or patient take thy quiet stand,The Angle trembling in thy hand,And mark, with penetrative eye,Kissing the wave, the frequent fly;Where the trout with eager springForms the many-circled ring,And, leaping from the silver tide,Turns to the sun his speckled side.
Or lead where Health, a Naiad fairWith rosy cheek and dropping hair, ​From the sultry noon-tide beam,Dives in Itchin's crystal stream.Thy Votaries, rang'd in order due,Tomorrow's wish'd-for Dawn shall viewGreeting the radiant Star of LightWith Matin Hymn and early Rite:E'en now, these hallow'd haunts among,To Thee we raise the Choral Song;hAnd swell with echoing minstrelsyThe strain of joy and liberty.
If pleasures such as these awaitThy genial reign, with heart elateFor Thee I throw my gown aside,And hail thy coming, Whitsuntide.
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